


This Will (Hopefully) Be My City

by AshenArrow



Series: Thin Ice [6]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Contracts, F/M, Gen, Hockey, Negotiations, Secret Identity, Women in the NHL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenArrow/pseuds/AshenArrow
Summary: She finally gets dragged into the meeting she's been avoiding for so long.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Thin Ice [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545589
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	This Will (Hopefully) Be My City

April 2020

  


Mario catches me after practice after a week of me basically avoiding anyone on the management team.

“Could I see you in my office for a quick sec?” he asks, offering me his typically friendly smile.

My heartbeat kicks up a notch, but I agree, heading into the locker room to change feeling a bit like the world is ending. I’ve had it really good here for the past season. My PTO contract that followed me to Pittsburgh from Boston is up at the beginning of next season, so it only makes sense that management wants to ensure that I’m not going to take off for the hills when negotiations start up.

I knock on the open office door before shuffling inside. I shut the door behind me for good measure, which earns me a strange look from the man. I fold myself into the cushy chair across from him, pulling my knees up to my chest and eyeing him warily.

“I couldn’t help but notice you jetting out of the arena right after practice the last few days,” he says lightly. “Glad I finally was able to catch you.”

“Yeah, well,” I reply, shrugging as well as I can in my current sitting position.

“You also clam up every time someone involved in management comes within a twenty foot radius of you.”

I hum noncommittally, picking at a stray thread on my sweatpants.

“Please tells me you haven’t been talking to other clubs.”

“No, god, no, of course not,” I say quickly. “I wanna stay here forever.”

He relaxes at my words, looking pleased.

“Then what is it? Do we smell bad?” he jokes.

Adrenaline spikes through me. I have to tell him eventually, I might as well get it over with.

“There’s gonna be a…complication when it comes to signing a new contract. I wanna retire here, actually, I really do, but it might be a total deal breaker,” I ramble, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie I unashamedly stole from Dumo over my hands as I do.

“A complication?”

“Yeah, so, uh—” I start, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I’m not exactly…who everyone thinks I am. I signed two contracts for Boston, one with the name Christopher and another, the legal one, with the name, well, Callie.”

His eyebrows go soaring into his hairline.

“I see,” he says eventually. “Are you…transgender?”

“No, no. Total girl, I just really wanted to play hockey and go as high as I could, you know, be one of the guys and all that.”

“Oh, wow. Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting this. PR isn’t gonna be too thrilled, either, but this certainly isn’t a deal breaker, Chris. Or, well, _Callie_.”

I cringe, face scrunching up in distaste.

“Call me, Chris, okay? Or Cal.”

“Yeah, alright,” he agrees, sounding mildly relieved. “So is that the only bomb you’ll ever drop on me, or is there anything else?”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, chewing on it.

“I asked for my trade. Management over there fumbled a very serious issue between me and another player. I had a feeling it was gonna be like that, so I recorded our meeting, I know, kinda crazy, and well, I said jump, they said how high when I threatened to…release the recording into the wild.”

“So blackmail, huh?”

I wince.

“I wanted to be in Pittsburgh from the very beginning. I was prepared to, you know, build a home in Boston, but then there was…that issue we had, and I couldn’t just let my only opportunity go without even trying.”

“Can I ask what the issue was?”

I grimace.

“I’d prefer to keep the number of people who know as low as possible. It wasn’t legal, what he did. It was pretty bad, actually, and he was kind of an idiot afterwards so I have all kinds of proof, so.”

“Alright. I gotta ask this, but are you ever planning on going public with the whole identity situation? I’d like to be as prepared as possible, and I’m sure PR would appreciate it.”

I swallow thickly, shuddering a bit at the idea of everyone knowing the truth.

“Not for a long time. Years, if I can have it my way. I want to be able to establish as glowing of a reputation beforehand so other guys can’t, you know, blame their shitty play on being afraid to check me.”

“Is that why you fought Volkov in your first game after your trade?”

I can feel my face do something funny.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Mario nods, looking a lot more relaxed.

“Are you planning on telling the team?”

“Some of them already know. Dumes, Sid, G. Tanger, Lafferty. Jarry. I kind of wanna take it slow.”

“Alright. Well. This was definitely a surprise, but we can also definitely work with this, okay? No worries. PR is gonna want to speak to you to make some cautionary plans, but aside from that, you’re all set, kiddo.”

Mario walks me back to the locker room where Sid insisted on waiting for me since he was my ride to the rink this morning.

“All good?” Sid asks with a slight edge to his voice, which is strange of him considering it was basically directed at Mario instead of me. I realize with a start that while Mario is basically a second dad to Sidney, Sid is basically my Mario. He’s being protective.

“Yeah,” I say softly in response. “Can we get pancakes on the way home?”

Sid splutters slightly at the out of place request.

“All that sugar?” he exclaims. “It’s noon!” he adds on, even more exasperated.

“Get the kid some pancakes, Sid,” Mario says, clapping Sid on the back.

Sidney does. Grudgingly, but he does. We stop at, of all places, an IHOP, where I order a monstrosity of a stack of pancakes and top it accordingly with blueberry syrup. Sid hems and haws, but ends up getting a tiny stack for himself, as well.

“So, you gonna tell what the sudden craving for these sugar discs is about?” he asks as I’m starting in on my second layer.

“I had a stressful day,” I mutter back. “I think I deserve some damn pancakes.”

“I thought steak was your favorite food,” he teases.

“It is. Jace got me pancakes during a, well, really shitty time last October, so I guess they’re a close second, now.”

“I thought your conversation went okay.”

“It did. I just…hate talking about all that shit. I just wanna be able to play hockey and that’s it.”

“I get that,” he agrees. “I’ll never question a pancakes request again.” I snort, smiling for the first time in what must be hours.


End file.
